Ivan the Terrible
by CreativeReading
Summary: After handing out some Christmas gifts to the team, we tackle a mission to save the world from a sadistic madman. Set after Season 1, episode 9, "Repairs"
1. Chapter 1

Standard Disclaimer applies- I own nothing from Marvel or ABC. Julia is all mine.

Set after Season 1, episode 9, "Repairs"

While this is a stand-alone story, you can read the first two stories in the series as backstory - "Vlad the Impaler" and "Coulson's Christmas Gift".

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**Ch. 1 **

Ben Franklin once said that beer was proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. He was wrong. It was coffee.

This rich dark liquid, this gift from God, was the only thing saving me in my current situation. I was sandwiched in a middle seat between a hulking linebacker of a man in the window seat and a young mother with a crying baby in the aisle. Airline coffee is rarely known for its gourmet taste, however, at 35,000 feet, you take bliss where you can find it.

Since S.H.I.E.L.D. would rather do anything but spend money on their agents, I was flying coach from New York to Moscow. The first leg of the journey from LAX hadn't been so bad, since I had an aisle seat and the middle seat was vacant. But this last flight was killing me. Getting tickets at the last minute for urgent assignments meant that I almost always rode in the middle seat. I actually didn't mind the crying baby so much. The poor mother was doing the best she could to soothe the infant, whose ears were probably killing him. However, the giant of a man to my right took over the armrest as well as the majority of my seat. He projected a mixture of misery and discomfort and I thought he might actually pass out from it during the flight. He spent the entire flight wordlessly grumbling and shooting menacing glares at the tiny screaming infant.

I had been called in to work once again with Coulson's team. They had hit a speed bump with one of my old informants and I was assigned to fly out and assist. I haven't been to Moscow since I stopped working with my ex-partner, Vlad, as my knowledge of Russian consisted of three words, "Dah, Nyet and Dosvedanya". I was looking forward to seeing everyone on the team as I had Christmas gifts to pass out. I didn't plan on getting everyone a gift, but I found the perfect gift for Coulson, so I had to get something for everyone else.

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Finally, after over 15 hours of total flight time, not to mention my layover in New York, we landed. Passport control and customs were a breeze, especially since there was an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. operative in place to help agents out at the airport.

When I stepped out of airport, a wall of icy air hit me. It was about 20 degrees Fahrenheit. I came from 65 degrees at LAX. Even bundled in a thick jacket, I was shivering. I looked for Ward, who was supposed to meet me at the airport and take me to the "Bus", their mobile command jet, at a nearby airfield.

I saw him after a minute of looking. He was wearing a charcoal grey peacoat over his usual black jeans as he leaned against the passenger door of the black S.H.I.E.L.D. SUV, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking like he was getting ready to shoot a fashion spread. He looked like he belonged on a runway, modeling for Armani, not working undercover.

"So, how's my favorite fake boyfriend?" I asked when I neared, referring to our cover during our last mission together. To catch my ex-partner from S.H.I.E.L.D. we posed as a couple.

He visibly winced. I loved giving Ward a hard time.

"Just get in the car, Demarco," he snapped.

I was dealing with 12 hour time change and hours on the plane and was not in the mood to give in to his pissiness. However, I was too tired to think of anything clever to say.

"So, I read over the transcripts for Vlad's interrogation," he said, once he started driving.

Crap. I knew where this was going. My jealous ex-partner, during his interrogation under truth serum, had admitted to meddling with our working relationship.

"And what I don't understand is, if he deliberately manipulated us to put us at each other's throats during our first mission in Nicaragua since he thought we were attracted to each other, why didn't he buy our cover story as boyfriend and girlfriend?" he asked.

Yep, that was the question I'd been avoiding. I had hoped that he wouldn't have read over the transcripts, but, of course, he would. He's Ward, the perfect agent.

"I guess, he thought that if we ever got together, it would be very short-lived."

"Hmmm," he huffed.

"C'mon. He had a point."

"Did he?" He asked, eyes straight ahead, focusing on the road.

Wow. This was dangerous territory and not something I was ready to get into while jetlagged.

"I mean about the short-lived part, not the . . . the attraction," I stammered.

"Really?" he asked, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

My cheeks began to burn. I was having trouble navigating the conversation. Then, I looked over at him and saw that he was trying not to laugh. I would have slugged him if he hadn't have been driving. "You had me going for a minute there. You were just going to let me twist in the wind on that one, weren't you?" I asked angrily.

He chuckled. "I wanted to see how long you'd go."

"Not funny," I grouched.

"I found it hilarious," he replied smugly.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the airfield. I had dozed off in the car, trying to make sense of the time change. It was late in the day here, nearing 5 o'clock, but I hadn't slept on the plane much and I could barely keep my eyes open. Luckily, we weren't scheduled to meet with the informant until tomorrow morning, so I hoped a good night's sleep would put me to rights. I always thought it was hilarious when spy movies had operatives crisscross the globe and then immediately plunge into a new assignment. Jet lag is murder, both mentally and physically, and no C.O. would ever jeopardize a mission by putting agents in the field right after they crossed several time zones.

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Once we drove into the open bay of the airplane and parked, I went straight to Coulson's office to check in and drop off my first Christmas present.

I knocked on the closed door to his office. "Come in," he said.

I opened the door and went to shake his hand. Our working relationship had improved dramatically because of our last mission together and I was happy to be back.

"Sorry to call you in so close to the holidays, but we should have you back home in time for Christmas," he said.

"You better, or my mother will personally track you down."

He grinned, "You know, I recommended you for the Asgardian transfer to Portland. I thought it was a good fit, especially with your background in history."

"Well, it started off great. He was a wealth of knowledge. I loved talking to him. He's lived for centuries and seen so much. Unfortunately . . . ," I trailed off.

"Unfortunately . . . what?" Coulson asked, clearly not looking forward to the answer.

"Well, let's just say he misread my interest in history as an interest in him."

"Oh, no," Coulson groaned.

"He got a bit handsy. So, I just gave him a friendly warning and he backed off," I said casually.

"So, you're the agent that threatened to disembowel him," he said tensely.

"A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend," I said, quoting my favorite T.V. show.

Coulson was not amused. "You nearly started an interstellar incident."

"Hardly; once I reassigned him an all male security detail, he was much better behaved. Now, don't be mad; look, I got you a Christmas present," I said as I took a wrapped gift out of my overnight bag and handed it to him.

He opened it self-consciously, but beamed when he saw what was inside. "How did you get these?" he asked.

"The trading cards are from Ebay. I had a mission with Agent Rogers and I had him sign them for me."

"You didn't tell him I was . . ." Coulson began.

"No," I said, interrupting him. "I told him that they were for my nephew. But he already knew about you."

"He knows?"

"Yeah, you should talk to him," I said.

"So, you got to have a mission with Captain America," Coulson said wistfully.

"Well, you did too, Agent Coulson."

"Yeah, but I got killed halfway through it. Kind of put a kibosh on the fun of it."

"I can see that," I said, trying not to giggle. Coulson mentioned the fact he got skewered every single time I saw him.

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Next, I bounded into the lab, ready to spread some more Christmas cheer.

"How's my favorite tech team?" I asked, surprising Fitz and Simmons as they were typing furiously on their respective laptops.

"Agent Demarco, it's nice to see you again," said Fitz.

"You changed your hair," Simmons observed, head cocked to the side.

I ran a hand through my brown curls, which were a tangled mess after an international flight.

"Yeah, well, after finding out there was a creepy doppelganger of me in the world, I decided to change my look a bit." On my last mission with them, I found out that my ex-partner had found a woman and paid to have her mimic me. It was beyond disturbing.

"So, any good missions while I was gone?" I asked.

"We met an Asgardian. That was . . . unusual," Fitz answered.

"Yeah, I helped with his relocation to Oregon. Randy little guy, isn't he?" I said.

"He called me the most beautiful thing he had seen in a thousand years," Simmons said quietly, looking down.

"Ahh, that's so sweet. Well, I've told Ward more than once that you guys are the most attractive team I've ever worked with. They should really do a photo shoot of you all and use it on the recruitment brochures," I said with a smile.

Fitz nervously adjusted his tie. "Have you had any interesting assignments whilst you've been away?"

"Oh, I did. I averted the zombie apocalypse," I said with a grin.

"You did what?" Simmons asked, eyes wide.

"Well, not really, but it was just too cool not to say. There was a facility in the Northeastern United States where they were working on the reanimation of corpses."

"Did it work?" Simmons asked suspiciously.

"Somewhat. For a limited period of time. They weren't able to get over the decay issue. We shut them down pretty early in their research process. The problem is you never get credit for the pandemics you avert," I said with a sigh.

"Still, it's a fascinating type of experiment," Simmons said eagerly.

"I knew you'd be interested in it. I wanted to get you some biological samples as your Christmas gift," I said.

I could see her break out in a huge grin.

"But, they ultimately destroyed them all," I said.

Her face fell.

I handed her a small wrapped gift.

"What's this?" she asked.

"A thumbdrive with all of the biotechnical mission report information, declassified to level 5," I replied with a wink.

Her eyes widened with delight. "Oh, thank you so much," she said, giving me a huge hug.

"Now," I turned to Fitz, "it's your turn. Here you go." And I handed him a small present with a big red bow.

When he opened it, he inspected the small circular glowing object. "How did you get this through customs?" he asked in a solemn whisper.

"We have a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who helps us out. Do you like it?" I asked.

"My own arc reactor? Of course, I bloody well love it. Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly.

"Well, first off, I should warn you that it's only got about 10% of the power of the original one and as to where I got it, let's just say a friend of a friend. Now, don't blow up the Bus when you start tinkering with it," I warned with a grin.

"No, no, no. I'll be careful. I promise. Thank you," Fitz said as he gave me an awkward but heartfelt hug.

"But, but, we haven't gotten you anything for Christmas, Agent Demarco," Simmons protested.

"No worries. Next time I work with you, you can drown me in presents," I said. "Now, where's Skye?"

"I'm here, Julia," Skye said as she walked in the lab.

"There you are," I said as I gave her a big hug. We'd been emailing and texting regularly since the last time I worked with them. "I got you a Christmas gift."

She frowned. "I didn't get you anything; sorry," she said.

"That's what we said," Simmons piped in.

"It's fine, really. Now, open it up," I said as I handed her an envelope.

She opened the envelope and smiled as she read the Christmas card. Her face lit up when she saw the little white piece of paper inside.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, hands trembling.

"Yep, all his contact info," I replied.

"How did you get this information?" she asked.

"We're S.H.I.E.L.D. We keep tabs on everyone. Especially the granddaddy of all hackers."

"You are like, the best friend ever," she said as she tackled me with a hug.

"Uff," I said, the wind nearly knocked out of me. "I'm glad you like it."

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Next, I went up to the cabin. Even though we were on the ground, May was there, looking over some controls, probably enjoying the solitude.

"Hi, Agent May," I said as I entered.

"Hello, Agent Demarco," she said, turning to look at me.

"This is for you. Merry Christmas," I said, handing her the tiny package and sitting in the co-pilot's seat next to her.

She carefully unwrapped the red paper and opened the polished wooden box inside. She took out the gold hair clip, face fixed with a detached polite smile.

"Thank you, Agent Demarco; it's lovely."

"Do you recognize it?" I asked.

She peered at it more carefully and then she smiled in recognition.

"My grandmother's hair clip. She had to sell it when she came to America. I've seen it in family photographs. How did you find it?"

"I have a couple of local contacts that helped me out," I said.

"Thank you. Thank you so very much."

With that, she leaned over and gave me a brief hug. I was so surprised, I nearly fell out of my seat.

After a beat, I said good-bye and went to go find Ward.

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I can't tell you how long I went back and forth on a gift for Ward. Of all the agents on the plane, I should have known him the best, since I had already been on two missions with him, yet I racked my brain trying to figure out something to get him. Then, I found out something about him and the perfect gift came to mind.

I found him in his mini-room, looking over some information on his laptop. I knocked on his partially open door.

"Come in," he said absentmindedly.

I came in, sliding the door closed behind me. I wanted some privacy.

"Hi, Ward. I gave out all my gifts, except for yours," I said with a small half-smile.

"You didn't really have to . . ." he said as he accepted the large wrapped box that I handed to him.

He opened the present quickly, tearing the paper and drew his head back when he saw the contents.

"Scotch . . . uh, thanks?" he said quizzically.

"I heard you liked that brand," I said, pointing to the white label with red numbers on it.

"I haven't had this in weeks . . ." he started and then, all of a sudden, his eyes narrowed and his head snapped up. He advanced on me, cornering me in the tiny room.

"How did you find out about me and May?" he hissed quietly.

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes," he said impatiently.

"So can I," I grinned, trying to keep the mood light as he was shaking with anger.

"You're impossible," he snapped, turning away and setting the bottle down. I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, I thought he was going to bash my head in with it.

"Most people find me charming," I replied, crossing my arms and trying to lean casually against the wall. "Look, the important thing to know is that if I found out, other people will, too. You know it's against regulations to fraternize with someone on the same mission."

"Says the woman who hooked up with her C.O.," he snarled back.

"You want to go there? Really? I'm trying to help you out, Ward, give you a friendly warning."

"Face it; you're a hypocrite, Demarco," he accused bitterly.

"Fine, you want the truth. First off, we did not 'hook up'. I went out to lunch with him after the mission was completed. We had precisely one kiss, again after our mission together was finished."

"And now?" he pressed.

"Okay, fine; we've been emailing back and forth and seen each other on Skype. But there's a big difference between you and me."

"And what's that?" he asked, eyes narrowed, his whole body tense.

"Agent Rogers and I are not on the same mission together, so any feelings we may or may not have for each other aren't jeopardizing anyone on our team. Also, I don't have a member of my team pining over me."

"So, are you upset that I hooked up with May or that I didn't hook up with Skye?" he bit out.

"That girl texts me constantly and every other one begins with Ward this or Ward that. She's head over heels for you and when this thing between you and May gets out, and, believe me it will, it's going to blow up in your face."

"What makes you think it's going to get out?" he asked.

"Ward, if I know about it, others do, too. For a semi-secret organization, there isn't any agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. that doesn't live and breathe gossip. So this is going to get out. Maybe in two weeks, maybe in two months, but it will."

"Are you going to tell Skye?" he asked, almost plaintively.

"No, and that makes me a crappy friend. I'll leave that to you. You are her S.O. and all."

He flinched at that. "Thanks," he said and I knew it cost him a lot to say it.

"Look, Ward, I know I give you a hard time, but I do like you. I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. You and May are grown adults. If you want to be together, fine. But you know what you're doing is wrong or you wouldn't be sneaking around like this."

"It's complicated," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well, trying dating someone who's missing seventy years of history," I said lightly, trying to smooth things over.

He chuckled a bit and I could see him relax somewhat.

"Well, as fun as this emotional roller coaster has been, I have the worst jet lag and I'm going to be of no use to you tomorrow if I don't get some shut-eye. What time do we need to leave to meet Ivan?" I asked, changing the subject.

He took a deep breath, transitioning back to work mode.

"We have to meet him at 10:30 a.m. It's not far away, but we should leave here at 10 at the latest," he replied.

"Okay, sounds good. I know it's only a little past six, but I have to go to sleep. Same room as last time?" I asked.

"Yeah, see you in the morning," Ward said neutrally.

"Hey, Ward, before I go, I wanted to let you know the Asgardian talked to me about the staff. He told me what you're going through, trying to suppress the anger and rage. I'm . . . I'm sorry." Although, I probably should have thought to say that before I provoked him.

"It's alright. I'm coping," he said.

"See, that's what makes you such a good agent," I said, trying to appease him.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, this time with a real smile.

I went straight to the room I used last time, flinging my overnight bag on the ground and dove into bed, not bothering to do anything other than kick off my shoes.

I slept for 13 hours straight.

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**Author's notes**-

Hope this little story helps to get you through the four week break between episodes. The mid-season break can be rough!

**S.O.** - Supervising Officer

**C.O.** - Commanding Officer


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

I woke up around 7:30 the next morning to the heavenly smell of coffee, my favorite way to wake up. However, my whole body felt gritty and I couldn't wait to take a shower.

After a quick shower, I dressed and made a beeline for the coffeemaker. It was still half full and I sighed with contentment as I poured myself a cup.

"You're not wearing that to the meet, are you?" Ward asked as he entered the kitchen, refilling his cup.

"I'm wearing literally the exact, same thing as you, jeans and a T-shirt," I replied.

"Yeah, but my clothes fit me. You look like an American tourist," he replied before taking a sip.

I rolled my eyes. I wore T-shirts at least two sizes too big on purpose. Wearing a T-shirt that was the "right" size, given my measurements, tended to be a bit distracting.

"Thanks, mom," I said sarcastically. "I'll be wearing a sweater over it."

"Good, because you look ridiculous right now."

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine." I grinned. Despite whatever happened last night, we were back to our usual teasing banter, which I hoped meant that all was forgiven. "I don't care what you say; I know you love me 'cause you made me coffee," I said, taunting him in a singsong voice.

"I made coffee for everyone, not just you."

"Well, aren't you altruistic?" I said, smiling as I took a sip.

His reply was cut off as we heard a hollow knocking to the outside of the plane.

"What's that?" I asked.

We opened the bay doors to see a S.H.I.E.L.D. courier waiting outside.

"Orders from HQ?" I asked Ward and he shrugged.

"Is there an Agent Demarco onboard?" the courier asked, stamping his feet to keep warm.

"Yeah, that's me," I said.

"I've got a package for you. High priority. Can you sign for it?"

I went down to show my I.D., sign and retrieve the package. I colored when I saw who it was from.

"What's that?" Ward asked, looking over my shoulder.

"It's private," I said as I entered the kitchen to retrieve my coffee.

"What's private?" Skye asked as she came in the room to make breakfast.

"Demarco here got a courier-delivered package and she's holding out on us," Ward smirked at me, knowing full well that Skye would hound me until I opened it.

"Well, what is it? Who is it from? Open it, open it," she said.

"Fine," I huffed.

I carefully opened the package and saw two wrapped gifts inside.

"Presents? From who?" Skye asked.

I opened the first one and saw a Captain America T-shirt with a note inside. "When you wear this, everyone will know that you are my girl," it read.

I lifted the shirt out and sighed a bit when I saw how tiny it was. I would definitely be trying it on privately in my room.

"Is that from who I think it's from?" Skye asked excitedly. I'd kept her up to date about how I met Agent Rogers.

"Yep," I replied, stealing a look at Ward. He was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

"Not a word, Ward. I know three ways to kill you using that spatula alone," I said, pointing to the utensil in Skye's hand.

He snickered. "I'm not saying anything Demarco."

"Well, what's the next one?" Skye asked, craning her neck as she stood next to me.

I opened the second gift. It was a framed pencil drawing of me signed by Steve. I smiled when I saw the picture. Either he was deliberately trying to flatter me or he really had an unrealistic view of what I looked like.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Skye said.

"Yeah, not very accurate, but, yes, very beautiful," I replied.

"It looks just like you," Skye protested.

"And that's why I like to hang out with you, the endless compliments," I said, giving her a quick side hug. "I can't wait to see Ivan. It's been years," I said offhandedly, trying to change the subject as I put the gifts away.

"You can't wait to see an informant called Ivan the Terrible? Doesn't sound too friendly to me," Skye said.

"He's not really terrible, but Ivan the Mildly Annoying doesn't roll off the tongue the same way," I replied.

Ivan was a tricky informant, but his intel was always excellent. He had a prickly disposition and you had to approach him in just the right way to get him to cooperate. Vlad had been great at working with him and, after several years, Ivan became the best asset we had in Moscow. I was looking forward to seeing him again.

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A few hours later, Ward and I arrived at a stereotypical abandoned warehouse. I never understood why people picked them for meets. You always stuck out like a sore thumb and looked suspicious waiting for the other person. Hotel rooms were just as private and a lot less obvious.

It was in the mid-teens inside the unheated building. I was freezing and knew that Ivan would not be happy about this location. He thrived on creature comforts.

"Did you pick this location or did Ivan?" I asked Ward as I rubbed my gloved hands together to keep warm.

"I did. It's secluded," he said defensively.

I rolled my eyes. Usually, when Vlad and I had met with Ivan, we wined and dined him, dropping hundreds of dollars at a time.

"He's over there," I said, pointing to the corner where a few overturned wooden boxes were collected.

Ivan was fidgeting while sitting on a crate, blowing on his hands. He was wearing an expertly tailored black suit and coat that cost more than I made in a month. Maybe two.

"Julia," he said with a smile as he rose and kissed my hand. He could be a bit of a flirt if he wanted, and I suspected that he was trying to irk Ward. At 5'8", he was only two inches taller than me, but he was so thin that he seemed taller.

"Ward," he said, nodding in his direction.

"Ivan, now why are you giving poor Agent Ward such a hard time?" I asked Ivan as we sat down, facing each other.

"Don't bother asking him. He doesn't speak English," Ward said peevishly.

I cocked an eyebrow at Ward. "Doesn't speak English? He graduated from Cambridge." I turned back to our informant. "Ivan, what's up?"

"He is, without a doubt, the worst handler ever," Ivan said in perfect English with a trace of an upper crust British accent, as he pointed an accusing finger at Ward.

"I can see that," I agreed, stifling a giggle.

Ward rolled his eyes. "You speak English? That wasn't in your file."

I winced. Vlad had written all of our reports, since I was usually too lazy to submit the paperwork on time. He must have omitted that fact.

"Sorry," I said as apologetically as I could.

"So, why wouldn't you talk with me?" Ward asked Ivan.

"As I said before, you're a horrible handler. You've got the people skills of an untamed ape. I agreed to work from time to time for S.H.I.E.L.D. with Agents Kuchenov and Demarco. They are much more . . . agreeable to work with."

"See, Ward, I told you people find me charming," I said.

Ward threw his hands up in frustration. "So, now are you going to let us in on all of this info that you've been stringing us along about?"

"First, we need to discuss compensation," Ivan said.

I grinned. Ivan loved money. Money was his best friend, his lover, his favorite pet. I often wondered if he went to bed rolling around on a pile of it.

Then, he mentioned a figure that was three times his usual rate.

I gulped and looked at Ward. Vlad and I always had to argue with HQ over payment for Ivan.

"Fine," Ward said quickly and I tried to mask my look of astonishment. Coulson's team obviously had a far higher spending limit than I ever had.

Ivan took out his phone. "Once I confirm that the money has been wired to my account, we can begin," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Ward called Coulson, who must have cleared it with HQ, because ten minutes later, the money was in Ivan's account and he was ready to tell us everything.

"How much do you know about the Battle of New York?" Ivan asked.

"Enough," Ward said tersely.

"And do you know how the invader was able to insure the the compliance of your agents that were compromised?" Ivan pressed.

"Yes," Ward said, careful not to give Ivan any classified information.

"Well, that device, the scepter, was left on Earth in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. A hacker was able to break into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database and retrieve all of the technical and scientific notes on it. The man behind it, Anton Volkov, is planning creating a bomb based on this technology, " Ivan said.

"A bomb?" I asked.

"Yes, imagine the possibilities. Turning whole city blocks of civilians into mindless, obedient drones. Completely destroying any rebellion or resistance instantaneously. Being able to turn troops against their own country," Ivan said.

I felt sick to my stomach at the thought.

"How," I swallowed, trying to focus, "how close is he to actually doing it?" I asked.

"He's had limited success with some human test subjects. He," Ivan looked down, emotion unexpectedly taking over, softening his sharp features, "he got ahold of a cousin of mine. Her mind, it never came back."

"So, this is personal," I said, smiling in sympathy.

"Yet, you still needed an obscene amount of money to tell us all this," Ward groused.

I tensed. It's always a horrible idea to give someone a bad time about selling information while they are in the process of selling that information to you.

"Forget what he said. What do we need to know?" I asked.

He handed me a thumbdrive. "Here's everything I know. Also, I've been invited to a fundraising event at his estate tonight to support the opera company. I will not be attending." His lip curled in disgust. "However, I have procured an extra numbered invitation for a 'business associate' and guest." He handed me a beautiful, engraved card that vaguely reminded me of a wedding invitation. "Do me a favor; nail the bastard," he said viciously as he stood.

"We will. Thanks, Ivan," I said as I got up and gave him a bear hug.

"Agent Ward," he nodded once again and turned to leave.

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"Well, that was horrifying," I told Ward once we got back to the SUV.

"I met Agent Barton before and then, I saw him again, after it happened," Ward paused. "He's not the same man. The idea that there could be widespread use of that device . . . We've got to stop him."

"We will," I said with a confidence I really didn't feel. "Now, let's get all this back to Coulson."

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Once we got back, we talked briefly with Coulson, who handed all of the intel to Skye and tasked her to find out as much as she could about Anton and his plans.

I decided to squeeze in a quick workout since I has spent the previous day strapped down in my seat. I changed into my old gym clothes, black yoga pants and a ratty T-shirt. The cargo bay had been converted into a makeshift gym. I wasn't a big fan of boxing, but since my new sweetie was such a fan, I decided to give it a try. I was practicing with the punching bag when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I ripped out my headphones as I turned around.

"Britney Spears?" Ward asked sarcastically.

"Don't judge me. You should have come in earlier; I was listening to Taylor Swift. What's up?" I asked.

Ward rolled his eyes. "Wanna spar?"

He was holding a pair of boxing gloves, so he had clearly come in planning on using the punching bag himself, but gym etiquette meant that he couldn't merely kick me off. However, I was not looking forward to sparring with Ward, since I knew, without a doubt, that he would trounce me.

Here's the thing. Against a similarly trained agent my size or an untrained person who was significantly bigger than me, I could easily hold my own. However, Ward had at least 50 pounds of muscle on me, maybe more, and he was one of the most highly accomplished fighters I had ever seen. I don't care what the TV shows say, if someone is bigger than you, and has more training than you, you are going down. Maybe Agent May could give him a run for his money, despite her slim frame. But May had almost 20 years of experience on me. I didn't stand a chance against Ward.

In a real-life situation, if someone like Ward advanced on me, I'm not ashamed to admit that I would just run the other way. I'm paid to apprehend the bad guys, not engage in a fistfight with them. I consider getting physical with the enemy a type of failure, since I don't have the luxury of losing a fight. A bad guy loses a fight and he gets arrested. I lose a fight and I could easily get killed.

That's what I liked about weapons; they evened the playing field. It doesn't matter how big you are as long as you can aim accurately. The drawback was that even the worst goons had family; whether it was parents, spouses, or children. Ending someone's life was not something I took lightly. The truth is, every time you fire a weapon, you are trying to kill someone. Even the best sharpshooters can't guarantee that they will only wound someone. Which is why I really preferred to use the night-night guns that Fitzsimmons invented. I only wished that they were standard issue throughout S.H.I.E.L.D.

"So, yes or no?" he asked testily, interrupting my train of thought.

I sighed, "Yeah, sure." Maybe it would be good practice.

I took off my gloves and placed them near the far wall, alongside my phone. Ward and I both covered the floor with the thick, black training mats.

"Ready?" he asked when we were finished.

"As I'll ever be," I replied.

He was a blur of movement and within five seconds, he had me with my face against the wall, holding one of my arms behind my back, cranking it back to a painful angle. He loomed over me and I could hear the smile in his voice. "How would you get out of this, Demarco?"

I whimpered slightly. "Oww. Ward, that really hurts."

He loosened his grip a bit and stepped back, "Sorry, I just . . ."

He didn't get to finish his sentence as I swept his feet out from under him and he landed on his back.

I crouched down next to him, head cocked to the side. "That's how I'd get out of it," I said with a wink. Using people's misperceptions of me against them was one of my favorite tactics.

He grinned and then launched himself at me. After a brief scuffle, I was the one on my back. He was straddling my stomach, pinning both my wrists above my head.

"Okay, now what are you going to do?" he grinned.

I tried to leverage my legs to buck him off, but I couldn't get a good angle.

"See, I got you. You're not going anywhere." His face was inches from mine. I briefly thought of headbutting him to wipe that smug smirk off his face, but I didn't want to start a mission with a massive headache.

"It's never a good idea to gloat," I snarled, struggling unsuccessfully to get my wrists loose.

"She's right, you know," a voice said acidly.

We both looked to the side and saw May standing over us, arms folded across her chest.

"Coulson wants to talk to you both," she said, scowling, and turned on heel and left.

Ward scrambled off of me, but May was already gone. I sighed. Great. Another team member pissed at me. This time, it wasn't even technically my fault. And that was why you shouldn't get involved with someone on your team.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

Ward and I entered the debriefing area together and saw the rest of the team assembled around the table-sized touch screen.

"Skye, why don't you get us started?" Coulson asked.

"Well, from the information that your informant, Ivan, gave us, it looks like it is going to be a tricky assignment," Skye said.

"How so?" I asked.

"So, given that Anton stole his intel via hacking, he's really old school."

"What do you mean?" Ward asked her.

"I mean his entire network of scientists, guards, middlemen, etc. is completely isolated. Absolutely no access to the internet. No smart phones. Nothing with GPS-enabled. Every formula, every instruction done with pen and paper. Which is burned afterwards. It's actually genius. When the whole world is high-tech, going low-tech is a perfect way to evade your opponents," she said excitedly.

"Skye, are you complimenting the evil mastermind who wants to take over the world?" I asked.

"A little. I mean, it's brilliant," she blushed. "He has no on-line presence at all. No Facebook, no email to hack."

"Well, that seems incredibly inefficient, but I suppose it's effective. So, how are we going to find out anything useful about him?" I asked.

"Well, that's where it got fun. While he's kept off the Internet as much as possible, we found another way to collect loads of data on him."

"How?" Ward asked.

"His exes," she smiled and brought up the Facebook profiles of five different women. "I was able to troll through all of their posts about him and get us some good intel."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, he seems to have a definite type. He's got some type of weird savior-complex. Swoops in and saves these women when they're having some type of crisis. Car broken down on the side of the road, lost job, evicted from her apartment," she said as she pointed to one photo after another. "The pattern is that he tends to be charming for a few months and then turns controlling and sadistic."

Controlling and sadistic. Sounds like the type of guy who would create a mind control bomb.

"I went through their photos and was able to get a few more recent ones that featured him," she said.

With that, she tapped on a few smiling couple photos. The women were all different; some seemed tall, others short, some athletic, some curvy, some with dark hair, others with light. But they all had a shyness, a self-consciousness when looking at the camera. A good predator, he sought out weak prey.

"Is . . . is that him?" Simmons asked, her breath catching.

"He's hot, right?" Skye said with a grin and then blanched at a sharp look from Coulson.

"So, given the way he's cut himself off, I take it we're not going to be able to simply introduce a worm into their computer network and crash the system?" Ward asked, moving the conversation back to the mission.

"No, we'll send in a team to the charity function at his estate tonight and they'll plant some new bugs that Fitzsimmons are working on," Coulson replied, nodding at the tech team.

"Yes, these listening devices should completely undetectable by most methods," Fitz said.

"Most methods?" I asked.

"Well, unfortunately, they do create brief surge of interference if someone is trying to access a cell phone data network nearby. But, given our target's complete prohibition on internet usage within his criminal network, we're confident it won't be a problem," he said with a tentative smile.

"Hopefully, we'll be able to find out where their facility is located. Demarco, you and Ward will be our infiltration team," Coulson said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked tentatively. "Vlad dragged me to a couple of these opera events around the world, and they are usually populated by people in their sixties or seventies. Ward and I are going to be conscipous. I mean, why not you and May?"

"Are you saying I'm old, Agent Demarco?" Coulson deadpanned.

"No, no, not at all. It's just . . . ," I began, fidgeting slightly.

"Ward is the only one here who speaks Russian fluently. Therefore, he has to be part of the team," Coulson explained patiently.

"Well, fine, then, why not May?" I offered.

She shot me a poisonous look, but didn't say anything.

"No, you and Ward make a far more convincing couple," Coulson replied.

That stopped me. Both Ward and May stared at me. "Sounds good," I relented, not wanting to cause any more trouble. "But, I'm going to need a dress."

00000

Ward had translated the invitation and it specified that the event was white tie, which meant he had to go rent a tux with tails and I only had a few hours to scour Moscow to find a suitable gown. The little black dress that I had brought along wasn't going to cut it.

I took Skye with me, even though she didn't speak Russian. It's always better to go dress shopping with a friend. I would have taken Jemma with me too, but she was busy finishing her work on the bugs with Fitz.

I asked Ward if he was going to come along and help us translate, but he said that he'd rather be shot in the eye than go clothes shopping with two women and that he was sure that we would be fine without him.

We ended up hitting about five different stores. Skye talked incessantly about Ward, about how noble he was, struggling with the berserker staff anger, how he had saved Jemma's life once by jumping out of the plane and on and on and on.

I nodded and murmured non-committedly, trying not to encourage her.

"I don't know; Fitz is pretty cute. And he fancies you," I said, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from her crush.

"Fitz . . . he and Jemma are a matched set. I couldn't even think of him without her," she replied.

"Yeah, they are rather close, aren't they?" I agreed.

"But, what's wrong with Ward?" she asked.

"Oh, he's great. It's just, you know, he's your S.O. and all," I said delicately.

"Well, that doesn't even really matter. It's not like I'm an official S.H.I.E.L.D. member, anyhow."

I smiled weakly and didn't bother to reply.

"I just don't have a chance with him as long as I am wearing this stupid bracelet," she lamented.

"I know how that goes," I said.

"Wait, you still have that tracker? We got Vlad; why didn't they remove it?" she asked.

"The official reason is that since Agent Kuchenov made several threats against me, as long as he is alive, he poses a danger to me and they are protecting me by burying this thing in my shoulder."

"And the unofficial reason?" she pressed.

"I don't know. I guess once your partner goes crazy, they never really trust you again."

My phone pinged. I looked down at the text. There was one word. "Wow!" I smiled.

"Is that from Steve?" Skye asked.

"Yeah," I said, putting away my phone, "he got the photo I sent him of me in that T-shirt. I'll try to catch him on Skype later today."

"I can't believe you're going out with Captain America," she whispered dreamily.

"Yeah, well, we haven't been on the same continent since we met. Maybe after the holidays . . ." I said as I fanned through the dresses on the rack.

Skye pointed out a beautiful, ice blue strapless dress. "How about this one?"

"I am never, ever wearing a strapless dress again," I groaned.

"Why not?" she asked.

"I made the mistake of wearing one to a wedding once. I almost had a wardrobe malfunction. They are not meant for chesty girls," I smiled.

"Oh, yeah, I can totally see that," she agreed.

"And so did almost a roomful of wedding guests," I laughed.

"Oh, my goodness," she giggled. "Okay, let's find you something with sleeves."

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After nearly two hours of shopping, we finally found the perfect dress. It was ridiculous. I've completed major infiltration and extraction operations in less time. Luckily, I had more than enough time to get us back to the plane and get ready for the big event.

After my shower, I dried my hair and Skye helped me secure it, half up and half down. Then came the dress. Skye helped me to get into it without wrecking my hair and zipped me up in back.

She sighed. "I wish I got to go with Ward to a fancy ball."

I chuckled, "It's not as fun as it seems. Most parties like this usually end up with someone shooting at me by the end of the night."

"Still, though, have you seen Ward? He looks amazing tonight," she said wistfully.

I smiled. Ward always looked amazing. That was the problem. He stood out too much. It made me nervous whenever I did undercover work with him. Everyone remembers a guy who looks like Ward.

00000

I emerged from my miniroom to grab a snack because you never know what they were going to feed you at these things. Sometimes the food was heavenly and sometimes it was completely inedible.

I stood there for a second, trying to figure out how to attack my sandwich without ruining my makeup, when Ward sidled up beside me.

"Wow, Demarco, you look like a real girl."

I sighed. That was probably the biggest compliment that I was going to get out of him.

"Thanks, Ward, and you look, well, completely average and non-descript. I'm sure you won't attract excessive attention at all," I said sarcastically.

"I'm wearing what every other man at that event will be wearing," he said.

"Yes, and they will look like a grandfather dressed for a wedding. You look like a Ken doll," I complained.

"Thanks?" he said uncertainly.

I rolled my eyes. Everyone on this plane was far too attractive for their own good.

00000

Before leaving on the mission, I had a few minutes to check my laptop and see if I could catch Steve on Skype. Although we had only been emailing and texting for a less than a month, it had been a very intense few weeks. All of his emails were long and started with "My dearest Julia". They reminded me of World War II letters that G.I.s had written to their girlfriends or wives. There was a mixture of formality and sweetness in what he wrote that was incredibly endearing.

"Gee, you look amazing. You're all decked out," he smiled appreciatively after he answered my call.

I twirled around so that he could see the dress properly. It was one of those incredible dresses that celebrated every curve and hid every flaw. I would wear it everyday, except that it was hardly appropriate for field work. It was a light heather grey, matching my eyes, with a low sweetheart neckline for the fitted satin bodice and a full tulle skirt that nearly brushed the ground. I wore some impressive faux diamond earrings and a matching pendant. I would have loved to buy some real jewelry, but I was sure that the dress itself went way over the allotted budget for the mission.

"Yeah, going undercover to big formal event. It's a lot better than crawling through grimy airducts," I said, referring to our last mission together.

"I don't know. I was pretty fond of that catsuit you wore," he said with a wink.

I blushed. "Well, I hope tonight we'll be in and out quickly at this thing. By the way, thank you again for the gifts. It was so sweet of you. I loved the drawing."

I had sent him a first edition of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis for his present since he was my favorite author. Steve hadn't opened his gift yet, preferring to wait for Christmas Day.

At that moment, Ward peeked his head into my room. "We've got five minutes, Demarco. Wrap it up with loverboy there."

"Who was that?" Steve asked when Ward left, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, Agent Ward. He and I have to get going soon."

"He certainly looks . . . dapper." Steve ground out.

"Oh, honey, there's no need to worry. You're the guy for me." I blushed a bit when I said it.

"And you're the girl for me. You take care out there. Call me as soon as you get back."

"I will. Bye, sweetie."

"Good-bye, doll."

I opened my door to see Skye almost fall in.

"You know, eavesdropping is a filthy habit," I said.

"And yet, so useful," she replied, following me to the cargo bay.

"Wish me luck," I said as I got ready to leave.

"I'm sure everything will go perfectly. See you soon," she said with a wink.

She was so wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4**

Since none of the cars we had were suitable for the mission, Coulson rented us a black stretch limousine so that he could act as our driver. He even dressed the part, wearing the standard uniform and hat. I have to admit, I got a kick out of having my C.O. drive me around. Having him with us meant that he could also provide backup if needed. May, Skye and Fitzsimmons were back at the plane, ready to provide assistance as needed.

As we slid into the car, I let out a slow whistle of appreciation. Buttery leather seats, a fully stocked bar, it was a far cry from the vehicles I was used to.

"Don't tell me it's your first time in a limo," Ward said wryly.

"On most of my missions, I'm lucky if the car has seatbelts."

"Yeah, I remember how it was in Nicaragua. I can't believe you guys made me ride in the bed of that pickup truck. I spent the next two weeks washing the mud out of my clothes," he replied.

I smiled at thought of the fastidious Ward doing repeated cycles of laundry. I hated to admit it, but I usually just threw away clothes ruined by an assignment and filed it under a business expense. S.H.I.E.L.D. accountants had learned not to ask me too many in-depth questions about my reports.

During the 45 minute car ride, we went over the various different scenarios and plans for the mission. We tried to cover every possibility, even the most unlikely ones. I was hoping that it would be over fairly quickly. There was a cocktail hour, a banquet and then performances by the opera company to thank the donors. I wanted to sneak out discretely during the singing, but Ward thought that we should wait until recital was over. I have to admit, unlike my ex-partner Vlad, opera was hardly my forté, so I would have to do my best not to fall asleep.

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We arrived a sprawling two story mansion with a curved driveway. Most of the other guests were being dropped off by their drivers, so we weren't the only ones.

The house was one of those enormous noveau riche monstrosities where the contractors just stole from whatever era seemed appropriate. I could see Tudor, Edwardian, and Roman influences with a dash of Baroque for good measure. It hurt to look at it. The ostentatiousness of the design just screamed money and privilege.

I counted ten burly men in tuxedos acting as greeters, opening car doors, checking invitations, and collecting coats, but I could see that they were all packing by the bulges in their coats. They were clearly not hired for their social skills. I had seen several more when we drove up, all bundled in large, thick coats, sweeping the grounds for security.

We were asked to walk through a metal detector as a "precaution" as well as had our belongings searched and I was glad that we had left the night-night guns back on the plane. We had debated whether or not to bring along some concealed weapons, but given Anton's paranoia, we planned on getting searched.

At the makeshift coat check area, we were asked to relinquish any electronic devices, ostensibly to avoid the night's opera performance from being recorded, but we knew it was yet another manifestation of Anton's concern for his criminal network. We dropped off our coats as well as the burner cells that we had bought specifically for this mission. Since everyone has a cell phone, you just couldn't show up without one without seeming suspicious and I could hardly show up with my real phone full of teasing texts to Captain America.

Once we had cleared security, we entered the main room. It was filled with large, expensive floral displays, filling the room with their heady scent. When I looked around the enormous ball room, I couldn't help but snicker. We are clearly the youngest people in the room, by at least a good fifteen years. There were some couples in their forties or fifties, but the majority of people there were in their sixties and seventies, just as I had predicted.

"Which one of these is not like the others? Which one of these doesn't belong?" I sung under my breath to Ward. "See, I told you we'd be way too obvious."

"Just stick to the plan. After we make contact with Anton and mingle for a bit, we'll start planting the bugs," he said.

"Fine," I huffed. "But I hate playing bait. So, are we going to start off as a happy couple and then let it go downhill from there?"

"Yeah, we'll try that. Don't worry. I'll make it easy for you. Just close your eyes and pretend I'm Captain America," he said as he bent down to whisper in my ear, slipping his arms around my waist.

"Ward, you wouldn't last five minutes if I did."

"Don't be so sure. I'm tougher than you think," he said with cocky grin, his fingers brushing lightly up and down my back.

"You guys, you know you're on a open comm line, right?" Skye's voice crackled in our ears. Luckily, our comm systems don't trip normal metal detectors.

Ward stiffened. I got the message. No more snark-flirting with Agent Ward. Which was a pity, since I teasing Ward was one of my favorite parts of these missions.

I saw Anton from across the room, greeting one guest after another, making the rounds. He was about Ward's height with a square jaw and piercing blue eyes. I could understand why his exes had been taken in by him. In addition to being attractive, he also had this unsettling intensity about him. You weren't quite sure if he was going to grab you by the hair and kiss you up against a wall or sink an ice pick in your eye. Although, given his quest for world domination, the ice pick seemed like the more likely bet.

Eventually, he made his way over to us.

Ward introduced himself in Russian, using his alias as Sergei Smirnov and his cover story as a business associate's of Ivan's, and then switched to English with a heavy Russian accent when he came to me. "And this is my . . . companion, Miss Julie Demille."

I did my best to project an air of uncertainty and meekness, which meant I deserved an Oscar for my efforts. I bit my lip and widened my eyes. "Hello," I said softly.

He lapped it up, taking my hand and kissing it. "Hello, my dear. What a pleasure to meet you." said with a vaguely British accent. His voice like a caress and his lips lingered on my gloved hand far longer than they should have. With that accent, I wondered if he had gone to school with Ivan. Maybe that was how they knew each other.

I smiled nervously. "I hope you both have a very enjoyable evening," he said with a wink as he turned to greet another couple nearby.

"Well, looks like he bought it," Ward said.

"Ugh. I am going to burn this glove," I said with a shiver.

"C'mon. You know you love it," he teased.

"I swear, next time, you're playing bait."

"See, I knew you were dying to work with me again. Admit it; this is the highlight of your week," he said suggestively as he once again wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Still on an open comm line," Skye's voice reminded us bitterly.

I colored. "Okay, let's mingle a bit and then get down to business," I said.

We walked around and met a few other couples. I let Ward do all the heavy lifting in the conversations, since I didn't know Russian. A few times, some of the wives would know English and we would engage in small talk. They asked me about how I liked Russia, how did I meet Sergei, how were we going to spend the holidays, etc. It was easy banter and, after a few false starts, it came naturally.

More than once, I caught Anton staring at us, although he didn't try to engage us in conversation again. I felt uneasy under his gaze and I was looking forward to when we'd be able to get back to the plane.

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After we've made our way around the ball room, pretending to sip one cocktail after another, we slipped into our first room to start looking for any important documents that we could find and to plant the bugs. We decided to explore the rooms in pairs as it is a lot easier to explain why you are not where you are supposed to be if you are with someone else.

In movies, people always sneak into darkened rooms to go snooping around. If they get caught, they often just pretend to make out. There are several problems with this approach. One, past a certain age, people stop uncontrollably making out at parties. Once you hit your mid to late twenties, it just looks rather odd. Two, everyone has seen the same movies and knows that there is a good chance that the suspicious people making out in the darkened room with the top secret information in it are really probably just spying. Three, Ward already had a pretty substantial romantic triangle going on. There was no chance that I was going to kiss him and risk turning his triangle into a square. Four, I had my own relationship with Steve to worry about. If I found out he made out with Natasha Romanoff, even for an assignment, we would have words, so I had to hold myself to the same standard.

That's why I preferred having the lights on. If someone were to catch us, I'd just pretend we're arguing. It's a tactic Vlad and I used to use all the time. People were always uncomfortable watching a couple fight and didn't tend to ask too many questions. Also, couples fight all the time at parties, so it doesn't seem odd or out of place.

In the first room we were in, we placed a bug discretely under the desk, near the phone, and then began to search it quickly.

All of the sudden, Simmons broke radio silence ."Guys, we are detecting a heat signature coming your way." Sure enough, I heard footsteps approaching the room and the door handle began to turn.

"I can't believe you slept with her," I yelled at Ward, to warn him we were about to have company and that the arguing should begin soon. Basing a fake argument on real issues was also a favorite tactic of mine.

"What I do or do not do in my free time is of no concern of yours," Ward said coldly, reviving his Russian accent.

Anton entered the room, staring at the both of us.

"You are so unfeeling," I spat back.

"And you overestimate your importance," he shot back. "But look, you're making our host uncomfortable; let us leave."

Ward lunged to grab my wrist, but I sidestepped him.

"Don't touch me. I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You don't have any money. What are you going to do? Sleep in the snow?" Ward sneered, clenching his fists in anger.

My eyes widened as he said that. Although we had gone over this possible scenario, it had seemed rather unlikely, so I wasn't too concerned about it at the time. It was a risky play, but I could see that it may be our only option to complete our mission.

"I. . . I . . I don't know," I replied, using my best forlorn voice.

"The young lady may stay here. I have many guest rooms." I visibly relaxed at Anton's words. He had taken the bait.

"Fine; you deal with her," Ward said viciously as he turned on heel and left.

I gave Anton a tentative smile. Now, I was going to spend the night at the evil mastermind's house in order to plant all of the bugs. This was why I didn't like this kind of gambit.

"Thank you, thank you so much," I said and then, I dissolved into tears. Fake crying on command can be tricky, but a good skill to have.

He rushed to close the space between us and held me as I wept. I resisted the urge to shrink away from his touch.

As my sobbing subsided, he lifted my chin with one finger. "There, there, little one. Do not worry. You will be safe in my care."

Mentally, I rolled my eyes, but I repeated my thanks. "Let us rejoin our guests, my dear," he said as he offered me his arm and we left the room.

00000

Ward's departure meant that I was going to improvise for the rest of the night. I spent it clinging to Anton, following him around like a little, lost lamb. He reveled in the attention and showed me off like a prize to his other guests. Although I couldn't speak Russian, it was easy to tell that he was recounting his "heroic" rescue of me from my evil ex-boyfriend. The other women in the group gave me understanding glances or squeezed my arm in sympathy. I smiled wanly, as though I was trying to put up a brave front, instead of just mentally counting down the time for this interminable event to be over with.

Next came the banquet and the seating was rearranged so that I sat at his right hand, as his devoted counterpart. The food was superb and I tried to make polite conversation with the guest at my right, but his limited grasp of English and my complete ignorance of Russian made it beyond difficult. I had a hard time talking to anyone across the table as the table decorations replete with candles and flowers were so huge it was impossible to even see anyone.

I was careful not to drink any alcohol as I have low tolerance and needed a clear head. Anton offered me glass after glass throughout the evening, but I would just politely decline and point to the half-full glass in my hand. I could see the tension in him mount after each refusal as he wasn't used to even this type of mild disagreement, but he didn't press the issue.

After dinner, chairs were placed in rows facing a temporary stage in the converted ball room. One opera singer after another performed, their voices soaring in the cavernous room. I tried to pay attention, but I only knew a few of the songs and opera always bored me. It felt like watching paint dry to me, but several other guests were leaning forward in rapt attention and clapped vigourously after each performance.

Anton was focused on the stage and he was more than enthusiastic in his appreciation of the performances. I noticed his arm draped along the back of my chair, his fingertips grazing my arm, a gesture of possession instead affection. I stifled a sigh and counted the minutes until the performances would end.

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Most guests left quickly after the last performance. Once the last guest had departed, Anton turned to me with a grin.

"Would you like a nightcap before retiring?" he asked, eyes trailing my figure.

"I fear I am rather tired," I said, wanting to escape his presence as soon as possible.

"Well, then, allow me to escort you to your room," he said, disappointment tinging his voice. I slipped my arm into the crook of his and walked with him up the flight of stairs to the next floor, holding my dress with my free hand.

"And here is where you will be spending the night," he said, motioning to a door at the top of the stairs. I saw him smile in anticipation, licking his lips. This was the part of the night where I had to handle him just so, trying to maintain his interest without encouraging him too much.

"Thank you so much for being such a gentleman. You are truly a man of honor. Sergei," I sighed delicately and wrinkled my nose in mild disgust, "he was such a brute."

The greedy look in his eyes abated somewhat. He straightened and gave me a charming smile.

"You are most welcome, my dear. Your room has been made up for you. The maids have set out some nightclothes for you. My room is there," he pointed to the end of the hall, "should you require anything, anything at all."

I smiled wanly, understanding the implication. He wasn't going to force the issue, at least not tonight.

He bent down and kissed my hand once again. "Good night, my dear. I hope you find your stay here pleasant." The way he phrased it made me feel like he anticipated that I would be there for a longer than the one night.

I wished him a good night and watched him head to his own room. I opened the door to my room and breathed a sigh of relief when I closed the door behind me.

The guest room was lovely, and avoided the excesses of the rest of the house. On the king-sized bed was an ankle length nightgown and matching robe. It was made of white satin and lace and looked like something a bride would wear on her wedding night. Dying to get out of my enormous dress, I unzipped it and stepped out of it as carefully as I could. I had a bad feeling that I wouldn't ever get to wear it again, but I didn't want to ruin it. I slipped on the nightgown. It was tighter in some places than I would have liked, but it was better than flouncing around in a ball gown. I idly wondered where the nightgown came from. I supposed it could have been from his stable of ex-girlfriends. I was glad the heat was on in the room because the sheer material did not provide any warmth.

"You guys still there?" I whispered over the comm line.

"Still here. Are you okay?" Skye's voice radiated concern and worry.

"As good as I can be while having a slumber party with a psychopath. Tell Ward I'm going to get him for this." I kept my tone light, but even I could hear the irritation seeping in.

"I'm sorry, Demarco. It seemed like the only feasible play at time," Ward said defensively over the earpiece.

"Like I said, next time you play bait. Okay guys, I'm going to wait about an hour or so and then plant the rest of the bugs."

00000

After about an hour, I retrieved the bugs from my clutch purse. I needed to plant four more bugs and try to search the house as discretely as possible. I had a bad feeling that any useful information was in Anton's bedroom, but there was no way I was going to try to sneak in there. If I got caught, I'd only have one way to distract Anton, and I didn't get paid nearly enough to try to seduce an evil overlord in training.

I opened my door slowly, but didn't see any guards in the hallway. I wondered if the majority of them had gone home for the night. I closed the door behind me and crept downstairs.

There were only a few likely rooms on this floor, a study and a library. I quickly searched both and placed the bugs under a table in each room, near a phone extension. Unfortunately, Skye must have been right about Anton burning all his papers after reading them. I found nothing of use, not even an old bill. Although, since I didn't speak Russian, I would have been hard-pressed to know what was significant and what was an old grocery list. As it was, I only found blank writing paper which meant our entire operation rested solely on Fitzsimmon's bugs.

With two more bugs to go, I chose the cavernous kitchen and the dining room. While they were not usually considered a high priority for surveillance, they were still some of the most used rooms of the house, so I hoped we'd be able to get at least some usable intel.

I proceeded to the second floor, just to cover all my bases. The rooms on the second floor were all bedrooms and bathrooms and there were no papers or phone extensions there, so I felt justified in where I had placed my bugs downstairs.

"I've placed the rest of the bugs. I haven't found any useful papers at all. Hope the bugs work for you. I'm going to try to sleep," I whispered as I returned to my room and kicked off my shoes to lie on the bed.

"Good night; we'll see you soon," Skye said, her voice full of pity for my situation.

"I hope so. Good night," I said, tucking myself under the thick blankets.

00000

My favorite way to wake up is to the smell of coffee that someone else has made.

My least favorite way? Gun in the face.

Wanna guess how I woke up at Anton's house the next morning?


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5**

Instead of being woken up with a steaming cup of hot coffee, I woke up with an overwrought mook screaming at me in Russian, jamming a gun in my face. Although I had no idea what he was saying, I doubt it was, "Good morning; may I please bring you some breakfast?"

I sat up gingerly, nodding in agreement to whatever he was saying. I pointed towards the bathroom. "I'm going to use the restroom," I said slowly and calmly.

He shook his head and waved the gun around a few more times for emphasis.

"I'm going to use the restroom," I repeated firmly, hoping that I'd be able to brazen it out.

He rolled his eyes and gestured for me to go.

I gave him a tentative smile and slowly walked towards the bathroom, slipping my feet into my heels from the night before as I went.

I closed the door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. Obviously, the jig was up. I didn't know how Anton figured out who I was, but he was clearly not happy with me.

I quickly used the toilet, since bathroom breaks during kidnapping situations can be few and far between. It was important to take advantage of them when you can.

Afterwards, I quickly inspected the bathroom, looking for anything I could to defend myself from the man on the other side of the door. Nothing looked promising, especially given the fact that he had a gun and I was unarmed. Luckily, there was a small window located to the right of the toilet.

Standing on the lid, I took off the screen as quietly as I could, running the water in the sink to hid the noise and opened the window. A blast of frigid air hit me. I took a deep breath, readying myself for the jump. I looked down and saw that there was a considerable snowbank below me. I hoped it didn't hide anything that would break my leg.

I jumped and while the snow broke my fall, the freezing temperatures stung.

"My cover is blown. I need an immediate extraction. I repeat, I need an immediate extraction," I said as I began to run, the cold air burning in my lungs.

"We're 15 minutes out," Coulson's voice reassured me.

I saw a group of cars and angled towards them, ready to steal one.

"Are you to the north or south?" I asked, looking at the main road that paralleled the estate.

"To the south," he replied.

"I'll try to meet up with you. I'm going to take a car," I said.

"We're coming for you," he said, worry evident in his tone.

"I know," I said as I reached the first car.

As emotionally satisfying as it would be to steal one of Anton's cars,I knew it would be much easier to steal and hotwire one from his security team, since their cars were older. I grabbed the handle of the first car and grinned as I found it unlocked. I wrenched the door open and slid into the driver's seat. I locked it behind me.

One of Anton's men reached the car and began pounding on the window, yelling and screaming. My frost-numbed hands shook as I clumsily tried to hotwire the car, my heart thudding painfully in my ears. As soon as the car roared to life, I blazed out of there, knocking the goon over. I saw three more thugs pile into cars to follow me in the rearview mirror.

I drove as fast as I could down the driveway. The car skidded slightly on the ice. I turned south onto the main road and my car fishtailed wildly, almost not making the turn. A black sedan appeared on my left and rammed into me. I overcorrected and my car flew down the embankment and slammed into the ground.

I sat there for a moment, dazed and disoriented, the airbag slowly deflating. I tried to start the car, but the engine wouldn't turn over. I undid my seatbelt and opened my door, but before I could scramble out, pain shot through me as one of Anton's men grabbed me by my hair and yanked me out of the car like a rag doll.

He smacked me in the jaw and my head snapped back in pain. I twisted and kicked him below the belt as hard as I could. He let go of me and clutched himself, groaning. I pushed myself up out of the snow. My ragged breath burned in my chest.

I took a step towards the road when two more of Anton's thugs came out of nowhere and tackled me. One of them hauled me up. I went limp, hoping the dead weight would cause him to falter as he tried to drag me towards their car, but other one produced a gun from his shoulder holster and poked me in the ribs with it

"I give up. You got me," I said. I raised my hands and stood to walk over their car. I wanted to alert my rescue team that my situation had changed.

"Plan B," I whispered, hoping my team could still hear me.

"Vat did you say?" asked one of the men suspiciously.

"Nothing," I said.

"We are not implementing Plan B. We are still enroute," Coulson said.

"Plan B," I insisted quietly as I was shoved into the backseat of their sedan between two large men.

"Vat?"

"Nothing," I repeated.

000000

One of the thugs marched me straight to the dining room, holding his gun to my back, and stopped me so that I stood before Anton. Last night's decorations had been taken down and a single table setting was in front of him. Anton sat at the head of the long table in front of an enormous feast of a breakfast.

I shivered as I stood there. I was soaking wet and freezing and the sheer white material of the nightgown was leaving nothing to the imagination. I crossed my arms in front of me and rubbed my arms in an effort to warm up.

"Imagine my utter disappointment when I awoke and found out that my favorite new pet was not all that she seemed to be," Anton said mildly as he looked down at his food.

"Awww. . . Life must be so tough for you," I said, sarcastically. I needed to convince him that I was not really his type of girl; I no longer wanted the evil mastermind to make me his new honey. Luckily, my natural personality was rather off-putting to anyone looking for a meek and mild girlfriend.

He narrowed his eyes and looked up at me, but didn't reply. "One of my employees disobeyed one of my express orders against using smartphones." He motioned to a badly beaten guard slumped in a corner of the dining room. I noticed his own hands were unmarked, which meant that he had ordered the beating, not administered it himself.

He nodded to the five smashed bugs on the dining room table. "Fortunately, his impertinence uncovered your little plot."

"It's so hard to get good help these days," I snarked.

"That it is," he paused and looked at me intently as he stood. "Who did that to you?" he asked and motioned to the left side of my jaw.

I pointed to the guard that I had kicked. Anton signaled another thug who struck the man across the face. "I don't like it when people mar my things."

"I know; I'm going to have to Photoshop all my Christmas photos," I said with a bravado I didn't feel.

"Oh, my dear, don't worry; we'll be spending the holidays together and I've become quite adept at covering any marks on my playthings," Anton said and smiled at the thought.

My stomach clenched at that, although I tried to hide my reaction.

"Now, I assume you work for S.H.I.E.L.D." His tone was light, but his eyes glittered with menace.

I didn't answer.

"Not in a talkative mood? No matter. After the process is complete, you'll be dying to tell me everything, dying to do anything you can to make me happy. Imagine all the fun we'll have. What a wonderful Christmas gift you'll be," he said as he looked me over while circling me. "Now, you can either remove the earpiece or I can do it for you," he said and put his hand out.

I doubted he'd be gentle while fishing around in my ear, so I took it out quickly and handed it to him.

"I should have known that you were bait. You and your companion were rather obvious," he said.

I couldn't help but grin, however, it's hard to say 'I told you so' when you're dead.

"Since you were guests of Ivan's, I'll need to deal with him later."

I tried not to react. Ivan, my favorite coward. He had been brave for us, opened himself up to danger this one time. And it could get him killed. It made me ache to bring Anton down.

Anton spoke into the earpiece, "If I see you, she's dead. She's mine now. Any attempts to recover her will result in her immediate death."

He placed the earpiece on the table and grabbed a heavy vase. He then smashed the vase down on the earpiece to destroy it. Unfortunately for him, the vase broke upon impact, spilling water and flowers all over the table. He cut his right hand badly and blood poured out from the wound.

He began to curse in Russian as his men frantically tried to help him by covering his wound with a cloth napkin and cleaning up the mess.

I couldn't help it. I just broke down laughing. The goon behind me jabbed in my back with his gun, but since I hardly thought he was going to shoot me for giggling, I ignored me.

Anton's head turned to me, "Shut up, **cyka**."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I smiled, enjoying his pain.

"Once the process has been perfected this entire world is going to bow to me," he yelled, as he shook in anger.

"Is that what you tell yourself at night, to make yourself feel better?" I replied sharply.

Anton took a deep breath to calm himself as one of his men finished bandaging up his hand. "You needn't speculate about what I say at night, my dear, soon enough you'll hear it firsthand."

Anton's eye's raked over me, taking in my ruined, wet gown. "Take her back and have her get changed and then prep her for transport. And, Mikhail, remember, I don't like it when people touch my things," he said to the guard behind me through clenched teeth.

I didn't know which was worse, the goon having to be told to keep his hands to himself or the fact that it was the third time that Anton had referred to me as one of his "things".

Mikhail put his hand on my shoulder to propel me out of the dining room. I reached over and grabbed a muffin off of Anton's plate and crammed it in my mouth before anyone could do anything.

"What? I was hungry," I said, defiantly, my mouth stuffed with pastry.

0000

Mikhail led me back to the room I had slept in. "The boss, he's going to make you his puppet. Maybe, when he gets tired of you, I'll get to take you out for a spin," he said with an appraising smile.

I noticed he had a skull tattoo on his neck, the type you get in Russian jails if you've killed someone. I gulped. This wasn't someone I wanted to spend any amount of time with.

He gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed. "Now, change," he barked.

There was one of those trashy velour tracksuits in hot pink. I rolled my eyes. Anton's exes had the oddest taste in clothes.

I collected the clothing and started towards the bathroom to change.

"No. You change here. I heard how you got out. That's not happening on my watch," he snarled.

"But . . ." I protested.

"Change," he repeated coldly, shaking the gun in my direction.

I could see that I wasn't going to win this round, so I turned my back to him and shimmied out of the wet clothes and into the new ones as quickly as possible. The outfit was at least a size too small and I worried that I was going to bust a seam. I bent down and quickly tied the laces to the white tennis shoes I'd been provided, glad to be out of my heels.

As soon I finished, I felt Mikhail's arm grab me around the waist and a sharp pinch in my neck.

I started to feel woozy. He must have injected me with some type of sedative.

"You son of a . . ." I began.

Then, the world went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6 **

I didn't know how long I was out, but I woke up with a massive headache. The first thing that I registered was the feeling of movement. I was in a car. I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. I must have been wearing some kind of hood. My arms were handcuffed together and I was seat belted in. I was sandwiched between two people, probably Anton's men.

Before long, the car stopped and I was dragged out of the vehicle as I heard Anton giving someone orders in Russian. I walked, stumbling from time to time. Someone had a hand on my shoulder and I could feel something hard pressing into my back, most likely a gun.

After a few minutes, we stopped. We were inside of some type of building. I could hear the soft hum of computers and people talking quietly.

One of Anton's men took off the hood and I blinked, my eyes hurting at the sudden influx of light. The far side of the room was dominated by a clear glass enclosure, shaped like a cylinder, no more than four feet across. At the moment, the door was slid open. I saw a scientist in a stereotypical white lab coat fixated on some controls next to the clear cell. Other than Anton's thug behind me, she was the only person there.

Anton strode into the room, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him, a man, disheveled and shambling, shuffled inside. He had the grizzled look of someone who slept outside and lived on the edges of society.

Anton smiled at me and gestured towards the older man.

"Now you can see my finest triumph and your future." He began to bark at the man in Russian. The man robotically lifted one hand and then the other. He then began hopping on one leg and then another, all the time wearing the same slack-jawed blank expression. It would have been comical if it weren't so heart-wrenching.

"At the moment, the process is permanent, however, we hope to someday be able to reverse. Not that it will matter for you," Anton sneered.

"Take him back to his cell," Anton ordered the scientist, who nodded and took the man by his elbow.

"Now, it is your turn, my dear," Anton said, nearly panting in excitement as he pointed to the glass cell.

Anton's goon poked me in my back for emphasis and I walked briskly forward towards the enclosure.

Anton sidled up next to me as we walked together, whispering about all the "fun" we were going to have together. Just as we reached the entrance to the glass cell, I snaked my foot around and tripped Anton, causing him to fall into the enclosure. I slammed my hand against the door's closure mechanism, causing it to quickly slam shut.

Then, I spun around and brought the chain of the handcuffs down on the thug's gun. It clattered to the ground. He dove for it and I jumped on his back. I used the chain of the handcuffs to choke him. He reared up and tried to swat at me, but missed. Within seconds, he sank to his knees and passed out.

I grinned as I quickly undid my cuffs using the key in the thug's pocket. I dragged him to a nearby railing and handcuffed him to it. I grabbed the gun on the floor and turned back to Anton.

"You stupid, sad sack. Did you really think that you could kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?"

"You tried to escape. My men caught you," he said desperately.

"And I went meekly with them. Didn't that seem at all suspicious to you?"

"We had guns trained on you the whole time," he growled.

"And that made you feel like you were in control." I shook my head in disgust. "You fell for the oldest trick in the book. I wanted to come here."

"But why?'

I pulled down the collar of my shirt.

"This is a tracker, implanted by S.H.I.E.L.D. You led us right to your facility. S.H.I.E.L.D. is hardly going to abandon one of their operatives to be a puppet for a madman."

All of a sudden, there was the distinct sound of gunfire outside of the room.

"Looks like the cavalry is here. I wonder how long it will take to have all your men in custody. Are you in betting mood? I think they'll be done in less than 5 minutes."

I walked over to the console and found the activation button.

"Now, my Russian is a bit sparse, but that big, red button looks interesting," I said with a malicious smile.

I knew I could justify it. I could call it self-defense or a kind of retribution for what he had done to those people. Pay him back for all the lives he had stolen.

Anton began pounding against the tube, his hand streaking blood along the clear wall, his voice rising as he panicked. My fingers lingered over the button. My eyes glazed over as I imagined what could happen.

I quickly dropped my hand. There were some things I couldn't do, that I couldn't come back from. The state of my soul mattered a lot more to me than the satisfaction of seeing him cowed and devoid of his will.

The sounds of gunfire grew louder. All of a sudden, our Moscow forces poured into the room. The moment was over. The decision had been made. I consoled myself that the S.H.I.E.L.D. cells were hardly luxurious and he'd be there for a long, long time.

I put the gun on the ground and raised my hands slowly. The last thing I needed was to get shot by my own crew. The first person I recognized was May. I smiled tentatively at her.

"She's okay. She's with us," she told our local S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives.

"Interesting get-up," she commented.

I looked down at my hideous outfit. "I wonder, will they let me keep it? I don't have nearly enough clothes with words stamped across my butt."

"I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D. will make an exception in your case," she said wryly. "Let's get out of here."

0000

Skye was the one who came up with Plan B. It was a failsafe; in the unlikely event that Ward and I got separated, she was going to track me. I owed her my life. Part of being in S.H.I.E.L.D was realizing that we all had strengths and weaknesses and that you had to rely on your team members to help you out.

We had to stick around for a few more days while Anton and his crew were processed by the Moscow branch of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was stuck filling out a crapload of paperwork. It was days like this that I really missed dumping all my documentation onto a long-suffering partner. I typed until my fingers cramped. I was just so glad I didn't have to shoot anyone. There was a whole other packet that you had to fill out when you discharge your weapon. Sometimes, I spent more time filling out the reports than the length of the actual mission.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists were busy working on a way to completely reverse the effects of Anton's "process". They were confident that they'd be able to cure the dozens of people that they found in a holding cell at the rear of the facility. Remembering that poor homeless man that Anton had used as a marionette, I couldn't help but wondered if there was ever a way to erase the psychological scars of being under someone's thumb like that.

On the other hand, I wasn't entirely comfortable with Anton's technology resting in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. Having the power to completely obliterate someone's will was heady stuff. And, I was sure, the S.H.I.E.L.D. bureaucrats in charge would come up with perfectly legitimate-sounding reasons why Anton's research should be continued. There were some days that I wondered which side S.H.I.E.L.D. was really on.

0000

Once I finished with the mountain of paperwork I was responsible for, I did a cursory Google search and found a church I could sneak into. Without a word to the rest of the team, I crept off the plane to attend to my post-mission ritual.

Inside the church, I found some candles at a small altar near the front of the church. As I lit each one, I prayed for my mission and my teammates, my family and the victims left behind from Anton's mad rush for power. I stood there for a long moment, taking in the Christmas decorations and breathing in the scent of the burning candles.

After I had finished and I turned to leave, I saw Ward leaning against the wall next to the front door, holding a large bag.

When I approached, he smiled. "Coulson figured this was where you'd be."

I nodded. "Hi, Ward."

"Wanna get a cup of coffee?" he asked, rubbing his gloved hands together in the unheated church.

I have never, in my entire life, refused a cup of coffee.

"You buying?" I asked with a grin.

Ward rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, c'mon."

00000

We found a nearby cafe that was deliciously warm inside. Ward ordered for us, but waited to talk until the waiter had left.

"About what you said at Anton's house . . ." Ward began.

"Look, Ward, I'm sorry, but you've got to admit, the thing between you and May, well, it's hardly the most healthy and loving relationship in the world."

"What it is, is none of your business. After what happened with the berserker staff . . . ., let's just say, we both needed a way to cope with the rage. Why is it that you always try to give me unsolicited romantic advice right before you leave?" he asked with a grin.

"'Cause you need it?" I smirked at him.

"Well, now it's my turn. Be careful with Agent Rogers. If he breaks your heart, I'll kick his ass."

I chuckled. "Wow; that's oddly sweet of you. I'd pay to see that. I'd return the offer, but we both know that May would totally beat me down."

"Oh, yeah, she definitely would."

There was a short pause when the coffees came and I smiled as I lifted my cup and let it warm my hands.

"So, I've got good news for you," Ward started.

"I would love some good news," I replied.

"You are free to go. They finished processing Anton and they'll call you back when or if there's a trial."

I stiffened. S.H.I.E.L.D. was not big on due process. I knew that sometimes they took shortcuts in the legal arena that were less than ethical. It's not that I wanted Anton to go free, far from it, but I always felt queasy about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s unilateral decisions about prisoners. Some waited months or even years before they were tried. Others were simply deemed "too dangerous" and just never saw the light of day again.

"Sounds good," I murmured.

"We've got another assignment, so we won't be taking you back to LAX."

I sighed. The thought of hours in a coach middle seat seemed like torture.

"But, Coulson was able to wrangle you some first-class tickets back to California as your Christmas gift," Ward said with a grin.

My eyes widened. I'd never flown first class before. I looked at the printed boarding passes that Ward handed me. I had less than two hours to get back to the airport and get checked in before my flight.

"I'll need to get my luggage," I said anxiously, not sure I'd have enough time to get my things back on their 'Bus' and get to the airport in time.

"That's why I have this," Ward said, taking my overnight bag out of the large sack he had brought. "And, since you liked the limo so much, my gift to you is that I've arranged for a driver to pick you up at the airport in L.A. and take you straight back your apartment."

"Wow, that's great. Thanks," I said. Now, I felt really bad about giving him such a hard time about him and May.

"Um, let's see. Skye had the Moscow team get your dress from Anton's house."

"And?" I asked excitedly. I really loved that dress.

"She had it dry-cleaned and mailed back to your apartment."

"Yes! Oh, I love her! Best friend ever!" I said.

"Yeah, she thought you'd be happy. Also, Fitz-Simmons was able to get you your own night-night gun. They are going to have S.H.I.E.L.D. ship it, to avoid any problems with customs. It should arrive at your place in a week."

My own night-night gun. I couldn't wait to take it on assignment.

"Also, May busted this out of the evidence locker as your gift," Ward said, clearly puzzled as he handed the package over to me.

I opened it, and started giggling when I saw the bright pink material.

"What is it?" Ward asked.

"Inside joke," I said trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, you'd better get going. You're going to miss your flight."

We both stood to go.

"Well, thanks for everything and Merry Christmas," I told Ward.

"Right back at ya," Ward said with a wink as he dropped the money for the coffee on the table and turned to leave.

I was going to make it home in time for Christmas. I couldn't wait for the sweet cinnamon and raisin tamales made by my mom's next door neighbor, my loud nieces and nephews, and, of course, the obligatory caroling with my parents. I was so ready to leave all this excitement behind me, if only for a few days.

It was time to go home.

* * *

**Author's Note**- I hope you all enjoyed the series so far! Although I've got a couple more ideas, I'm debating ending the series with this story. If you haven't already read them, the first two stories in the series were "Vlad the Impaler" and "Coulson's Christmas Gift".

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!


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